The Road to Insanity
by freshwaterplimpies
Summary: ONE SHOT: Bellatrix Lestrange is sent to Azkaban. Life through her eyes while she is there.


Bellatrix Lestrange sat; her head held high, her dark beauty not yet destroyed. An insane smile on her lips, a glint in her eyes. She stepped off the boat, refusing the help from her escort. Her hands chained together with an unbreakable, invisible bond.

She walked up the worn path towards the ominous fortress, her confidence slowly waning as she got closer. The dementors were taking their effect. Doubts began to spread through her sharp mind. _Is he really gone? Will he come for me? Is this to be my life forever? _The thoughts were unbearable, yet it seemed that it was all she could think.

A prisoner's attire was thrown at her; she caught it in her attached hands. Sneering she asked, "And you expect me to switch clothes with my hands connected?" The ward looked at her warily, as if he had been asked this question too many times. He pointed towards a screen, obviously instructing her to follow his finger.

She looked at him incredulously and then laughed. The laughter sounded slightly strained, not as confident. "You expect _me_ to change behind a screen like some common filth?"

"Yes." He said, not even bothering to look up. This made her angrier than anything.

Her temper flared, "Do you know who I am?" the sentence she had used almost everyday, the sentence that could strike fear in anyone, got her nowhere here. And she knew it but she couldn't resist shouting it.

He raised his eyes to meet hers for the first time. "Yes I do, and let me tell you, it's not going to get you anywhere here."

"You will regret this someday, you'll see."

"That's what they all say." He retorted, it stung her and she stalked off to change. Once behind the screen the enchantment was lifted and she could move her hands, she removed her long gown and replaced it with the striped black and white garment, grimacing as she pulled it over her legs.

The ward led her up a stone staircase, they passed one window and the scenery outside was as bleak and hopeless as it was in. He turned toward her a sneer on his face and said, "I think you will see some familiar faces. One especially, brought in just yesterday."

They walked past many cells, dead and pallid looking faces could barley be made out in the dank darkness. He stopped in front of an empty cell, unlocking it with a flick of his wand, but before she could enter a deep voice spoke from next to her.

"Look what the cat dragged in. The infamous Bellatrix Lestrange. Who would have thought she would get caught? But what does that matter now? You still feeling high and mighty about yourself now Bellatrix? Is your master going to come and rescue you now?" Sirius Black had appeared at the bars of his cell, leering at his cousin. He was as handsome as ever, still looking laid back and carefree, Azkaban had not yet taken its toll.

She spat in his face and walked dignified into her cell. The door closed behind her and her hands broke free. A wave of helplessness washed over her. She panicked and her eyes lost that glint, flitting from wall to wall. She grabbed at the bars, her voice seemed to be lost deep in her throat. She sunk to her knees as a Dementor passed in the corridor.

It stopped in front of Bellatrix's cell; if possible it seemed to be studying her. She felt the memories so carefully hidden away, no edges exposed, being taken from her. The summers on the beaches. Winter breaks curled on a rug in front of a fire. Her sisters and cousins surrounding her, listening to her with awe. Memories from her past that she had tried to forget.

It seemed like the longer it stood there, the more recent the memories became. Her wedding passed in an instant, but her induction to His inner-circle was slowly drawn from her. As if to tease her. The thrill and power of killing was extracted from her.

Months passed. Years slipped away and the only things left were the things she had thought had been forgotten.

What was left were screams. The screams of the people she had murdered. Ricocheting off the walls of her cell, pounding into her head, driving her further still towards the depths of madness.

But she didn't need the forgotten screams to drive her mad. The madness, the insanity had always lived within her. She was convinced that she had been born with it, that it wasn't a product of her many killings. But every time she committed a murder, the pool of madness was filled another inch.

And as she sat in her cell hovering in a corner, her eyes sunken in her head, the Black beauty just a shadow on her face, the pool was just shy of running over the banks. Some days when the she let the dementors get the best of her she would run her fingers through the water, dip her feet in. Wanting so desperately to get away that she would let herself experience the insanity that so closely enveloped her.

She would laugh maniacally, clutching the bars on the window. Shouting for the world to hear, "He's coming now, just wait and see, he won't let me rot in here. I was his favored; he will come and get me!" Her voice full of desperation, a quality she had despised.

She would lie on her back on the cold stone floor laughing until her lungs screamed, but the insanity was in control. At these moments when she was not in control she was happiest strangely. And as her cold high insane laughter filled her cell and the hall he sat with his eyes closed listening.

Trying to hear some of the old Bellatrix, the old Bella. He wanted to hear the taunting laugh. The laugh he had once despised was the one thing he most wanted to hear. Day to day he could hear her slowly creeping down the road to insanity. And he knew that she was long gone, he had no power to save her.

But then the laughter would stop abruptly, the silence was deafening. She would run to the edges and rattle the bars, screaming herself hoarse. Sometimes he would get a glimpse of her face, and see it was tear stained. How far she has fallen he thought sadly.

On her better days she would taunt him. She knew, as did most prisoners that he was not guilty. But they would never reveal that. What use would that come to? One of the orders own imprisoned was priceless. Many got more than their fair share of laughs. But in here her taunting was not as heartfelt. Her mind drifted to what would have been if she hadn't chosen this path. And she blocked those thoughts, knowing that the Dark Lord would come back and she would be rewarded immensely.

That was the thought that kept her going. When dementors passed she would lapse into a state of despair but when she recovered she made herself continue on.

Sirius and Bellatrix, mortal enemies sat side by side, separated by a thick stone wall, hopelessness, despair and depression hung in the air. And they wondered when this hell would end. Both in the same situation. But they couldn't have been more different.


End file.
